My Harem System In My Hero Academia

Momo adjusted the ribbon on her uniform as she walked up to Yami's house, her school bag slung over her shoulder. 

She figured she'd swing by his place with her after-school fencing and tutoring cancelled. 

It wasn't like she had anything better to do, and Yami's house was always kind of chill. Plus, his mom made amazing snacks.

As she got closer, though, something weird caught her eye. The front door was wide open.

She hesitated. Yami wasn't the type to leave the door open. 'Maybe they're airing out the house?' she thought to herself. Still, it didn't feel right. She called out softly, "Yami?" but got no answer.

After a moment of awkwardly standing there at the entrance, she decided to just step in. 

They were good friends, right? He wouldn't mind. 

"Hello?" she called again, closing the door behind her.

That's when she heard it—faint noises coming from deeper inside the house. 

At first, she thought it might be the TV, but it didn't sound like that. It was more like… breathing? Heavy, uneven breathing.

Curiosity got the better of her. She tiptoed down the hallway, the sounds getting louder with each step. 

It was coming from the living room. "Yami?" she tried again, quieter this time, but still no response.

Peeking around the corner, she froze. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud, but she didn't notice.

Yami and his mom, Angela, were on the couch. Naked. Totally naked.

Angela was sitting beside Yami, her face bright red and sweaty. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, and her hand—Momo blinked hard, trying to process what she was seeing—her hand was wrapped around Yami's… thing. His huge thing. 

It was thick, veiny, and way bigger than anything she'd seen in health class diagrams. The tip glistened with some kind of milky liquid.

Momo's heart pounded in her chest. She knew she shouldn't be watching this, that she should leave immediately, but her legs refused to move. 

Her eyes stayed glued to the scene as Angela's hand slowly slid up and down Yami's cock; her movements were precise and almost… loving.

Momo's breath hitched when she noticed Angela's other hand. It was between her own legs, buried under her thighs. 

Her fingers moved quickly, disappearing into her soaked pussy. Liquid dripped down Angela's legs, pooling on the couch beneath her.

"What is she doing...?" Momo whispered under her breath, barely loud enough for even herself to hear.

Her body reacted before her brain could catch up. Her hand slid down, brushing the hem of her skirt. 

She didn't understand why, but something about what she was seeing made her insides twist in this weird, tingly way. 

Her fingers brushed against the front of her panties, and she froze. They were damp—no, they were soaked.

She bit her lip, glancing back at Yami and Angela. They were too caught up in what they were doing to notice her. Angela's hand moved faster now, squeezing Yami's shaft as a soft moan escaped her lips.

Momo's fingers pressed against herself again, harder this time. Her knees wobbled as a shock of pleasure shot through her. 

She didn't even know what she was doing, but it felt so good.

Angela suddenly gasped loudly, her body arching as she squirted all over the couch. 

The liquid splashed everywhere, soaking the cushions and dripping onto the floor. Yami groaned softly, his cock twitching in Angela's hand before thick streams of white liquid shot out, splattering across Angela's chest and face.

Momo's jaw dropped. Her own body tensed as a wave of heat crashed over her. 

She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a cry as her legs trembled. She stumbled backwards, her heart tumbling on her chest. She needed to get out of there—now.

She bolted as quietly as possible, running out of the house and not stopping until she was several streets away. 

Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, her face burning with shame and something she couldn't quite name yet.

That night, Momo couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen. No matter how hard she tried, the image of Angela's hand stroking Yami's cock was burned into her brain. 

She tossed and turned in bed, her thighs squeezing together as the heat in her stomach grew unbearable.

Her fingers drifted down, brushing against her damp panties. She gasped softly, her body shivering as her fingers pressed harder. 

The strange tingling sensation built up quickly, her back arching as she came for the first time. Her body trembled, a burst of liquid soaking her sheets.

She lay there for a moment, panting and staring at the ceiling. Then, almost instinctively, her hand drifted back down. 

Momo discovered something new about herself that night—she was a squirter.

After that day, Momo's life took a turn she never saw coming. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the image of Yami and Angela out of her head. 

Every detail—the way Angela's hand moved as she stroked Yami's cock, the sound of her moans, the way Yami's cock twitched—it was all burned into her mind. 

She didn't understand why, but it made her feel things she'd never felt before. Weird, intense things that left her body buzzing.

At first, she thought it would go away if she ignored it, but it didn't. It got worse. 

Every night, when she was alone in her room, the memories crept back in, making her chest tighten and her stomach twist in that same strange way. 

She started touching herself again, just to make the feelings go away. But instead of feeling satisfied, it only made her crave more.

It didn't take long before she was addicted. Momo started sneaking into her parents' study to use their computer, searching for videos that matched what she'd seen that day. 

At first, she didn't even know what to type, but she figured it out after some trial and error. Porn. That was the word. She found a whole world of it—thousands of videos, pictures, and mangas feeding the fire she couldn't seem to put out.

After asking for her parents for a laptop to "study", Momo learned the basics about computer privacy and began to look for as many sites as possible.

It became a nightly routine. Momo would lock her door, put on her headphones, and dive into the endless sea of porn she'd discovered. 

Her body would heat up, her breath would quicken, and her fingers would find their way between her legs. 

She learned things she hadn't even known existed, and the more she explored, the harder it was to stop.

By the time she was twelve, she was hooked. If she didn't get herself off at least once a day, she'd be grumpy, distracted, and downright impossible to deal with. 

Her classmates started noticing how irritable she got when she skipped a day, and her parents chalked it up to puberty. 

Little did they know, their perfect little girl spent her nights hunched over her laptop, panting into her pillow as her fingers worked furiously under the covers.

But it wasn't just the porn that consumed her thoughts. Yami was always there, lingering in the back of her mind. 

She couldn't stop thinking about him—not just as her best friend, but as something more. 

Every time she touched herself, she thought about him. She pictured his golden eyes staring into hers, his cock—that cock—pushing her to places she couldn't even fully imagine yet. 

She started fantasizing about him taking her first time, about him being the one to show her what all these feelings really meant.

In her mind, it was always the same. Yami would pin her down, telling her how much he wanted her, how big of a slut she was, and how much he really wanted to make a mess of her. 

He'd kiss her neck, whisper filthy things in her ear, and then slide that cock inside her, stretching her pussy in ways she could only dream of. 

She'd cry out his name, her fingers digging into his back as he claimed her completely as his woman.

The obsession didn't stop there. Momo started copying everything Yami did. 

If he joined a new club, she joined too. If he started reading a book, she'd get her own copy and stay up all night finishing it just to keep up. 

She started talking like him, even eating the same food he liked. It wasn't enough to just be his friend—she wanted to be his equal partner.

Yami noticed, of course. It was hard not to. Momo had always been a little clingy, but this was on another level. 

She was always hovering, watching, and ready to jump in and help with whatever he was doing. 

At first, Yami found it kind of annoying, but he got used to it over time. Momo was smart and capable, and honestly, her eagerness to follow his lead made it easier for him to "train" her. 

So, he didn't question it. If she wanted to tag along, who was he to stop her?

While Momo's obsession grew, Yami was busy with his own goals. He'd started openly training, pushing his body to its limits and studying everything he could about technology and corporate strategy. 

His dream of taking down his father hadn't faded—it had only grown stronger. He wanted to crush Akio completely, destroy everything the man had built, and take it for himself.

Momo, naturally, followed suit. She started training, too, not at the same rate the little psyco was doing, but she trained her body too, and she, too, began a habit of learning about technology and computers. 

She didn't care about corporate strategy or business tactics like Yami did—she just wanted to be the best at something he admired.

Meanwhile, Yami and Angela's relationship had taken on a life of its own. Their private sessions were no longer secret or awkward—they were routine. 

Every evening or every other day, they'd meet in the living room, strip down, and indulge themselves without shame. 

Angela would bring Yami a bra she'd worn that day, or sometimes a photo of herself in something slutty, and he'd use them to get off. 

In return, Angela would take a pair of Yami's underwear or a towel he'd used and lose herself in her own fantasies.

As the years passed, Yami and Momo entered middle school.